A Soldier Again
by The Hermione Granger Fan Club
Summary: Brin's POV on the episode 'Cold Comfort' up until her reindoctrination at Manticore. Sad, but definitely one of my better fics.


Brin closed her eyes as the light of the slowly landing Manticore helicopter seemed to blind her so that all she could see was a searing whiteness.  
  
This is it, thought Brin. No backing out now.   
  
Paper and assorted rubbish around the peeling bench flew around as the helicopter landed. A weakened Brin barely felt a part of her surroundings as a few doctors and Manticore soldiers scrambled out to bring her inside.   
  
Wait. Why would I want to back out? I'm going to live... Max and Zack are going to come rescue me soon. I'll be back on the streets in no time, thought Brin.   
  
It was no use. She was too tired, too sickly for optimism.   
  
She felt herself being lain down. The inside of the helicopter seemed blurred. Spots of light seemed to burst in coloured storms... she couldn't tell, but she thought it might be her eyes deteriorating.   
  
Brin remembered the concerned and tearful faces of her brother and sister as they left her for Manticore. Max's voice gently, solemnly promising that she would come for her.   
  
A couple of X-series soldiers were waiting inside the helicopter with icepacks to bring down her temperature- two young boys and an older girl. Brin guessed they were X6s. She gazed dully at them and heard the door slam.   
  
Any fantasies of miraculously overpowering the Manticore staff inside the helicopter and crawling off somewhere to die peacefully under the stars left Brin's mind. It was unthinkable for her even to stand up. Brin just felt so tired...   
  
She'd started feeling sick a couple of days ago. In her LA apartment, she'd taken the day off work to lie down sipping some cold water beside her bed. Somehow, it made her feel better.   
  
Brin had felt a little afraid. X5 soldiers didn't give into illness or injury very easily. When she was seven, an X5 named Iria had been injured in a training exercise. That was an understatement. She'd fractured both knees, broken her left arm in two places and been knocked silly from a fall down a rock face in the woods surrounding Manticore. Using one arm, she'd crawled all the way back to within a stone's throw of the base before passing out and having to be carried to the infirmary.   
  
Brin had been impressed by this beyond belief, and constantly told herself that if Iria could make it through the woods on her stomach, in the dark, using only one arm to propel herself along then a bout of flu shouldn't be a problem for a fit and resourceful X5. But her sickness didn't feel like flu...  
  
As she reclined on her bed listening to her favourite CD, she groped for her glass and raised it to her lips.   
  
Damn. Fresh out of water.   
  
Shakily, Brin got to her feet, tottered to her kitchen and pulled a plastic bottle of water out of the icebox. She braced herself on the counter, swaying slightly as she slurped the water before refilling the glass and turning to go back to her bed. A nice pre-brunch nap would feel very peaceful, thought Brin, licking around her mouth but not feeling particularly refreshed.  
  
She heard a few people climbing the stairs. Odd. Most of the building's residents were out during this part of the day.   
  
There was a noise of the front door to Brin's apartment being kicked down.   
  
"Dear God..." whispered Brin. She'd dropped the glass in a panic and ran for the nearest open window.   
  
Her advanced hearing picked up the sound of the soldiers entering the room she'd been in as she landed in the alley below. She stumbled and started running.  
  
Great, she'd thought. I left my CD collection up there! They'd trash her stuff after they practically dissected her furniture and belongings for any clue of where she might be headed. Although, truth be told, Brin had no idea herself. All she knew was that she was running, running as fast as she could through the midday streets.   
  
Brin hid inside a public toilet block, the only place where, in her fragile state, she could think of hiding. She KNEW it was completely stupid not to mention nauseating- that place had smelled rank. At least the door had a lock. She crouched on the seat, sweating and shivering.   
  
This is Juvenile Ideas Personified, Brin had thought. I wouldn't have even considered hiding in a public toilet stall before I escaped!   
  
She had to hide somewhere Manticore wouldn't think to look. And somewhere- somewhere cold. She was burning up, on the brink of becoming delirious. The delirious babblings of a sickened X5 would be all it would take for someone to open the door and for Manticore to swoop down on her pretending to be caring family members who would take her home.   
  
That was how Brin found the freezer in the back of Senor Fico's. She'd sat down, feeling the icy air chill her. Oh, I feel so much better... Those had been her last thoughts before she'd lapsed into unconsciousness.   
  
Brin had floated in the empty blackness of her thoughts. There had been no fear. There had been no obligation. No heavy sick feeling had been able to get to her. She hadn't been X5-734. She hadn't even been Brin. Brin had just rested in the biting cold of the freezer, and she could have stayed there forever.   
  
Brin might have stayed there forever. She felt a rush of warm air from the outside prickle on her icy skin as two foreign men had entered the freezer.   
  
She'd opened her eyes, almost weary of her abrupt return to consciousness. The two men had stood over her, shocked.   
  
Brin remembered. She wasn't here to rest. She felt better, and now she had to flee.   
  
Leaping to her feet, she'd torn out of Senor Fico's, the men screaming in fear. She imagined their shock and felt almost amused at the mental image of herself, seemingly frozen to death on the floor. Brin, a child of Manticore to the end, had been desensitised to the point where she even found death funny to a degree- as long as it wasn't real.   
  
Running awkwardly, every nerve in her body pulsing, she'd stopped momentarily. The dream was over- she didn't feel so sick any more, but the seat of her jeans and the back of her jacket were soaking. Hell, all of her clothes were sopping from hours spent drifting through an imaginary world of blackness. Brin's shoes felt like blocks of solid ice, frozen to her feet. Her hair hung limply in front on her and ice clung to her cheeks, dusted her eyebrows and lashes. It had hurt like anything, opening her eyes so abruptly.   
  
Shivering uncontrollably, she'd decided she definitely needed help. Finding the nearest working payphone, she dialled the contact number.   
  
"Hey, it's me, Brin."  
  
"Brin? Brin, you-"  
  
She drew a breath, her teeth chattering. "I know I'm not supposed to contact you, but I had no choice. I had a close call with Lydecker's people in L.A. I need your help. I'll explain everything when I see you."  
  
"OK, Brin. I'll meet you near Bates Street on the west side of town. You know where that is?"  
  
Brin struggled to process the information. Bates Street. Yes. Yes, she knew where that was. "When?"  
  
"Three-fifteen."   
  
"I'll be there," she'd said. Zack had hung up on her by the time she'd gotten to the word 'there'.   
  
She'd made her way to Bates Street, but realised the alley nearby was what Zack meant. Brin had turned into the alley at the exact moment that Zack had. Her hair was damp, but her clothes were only borderline moist by that time. The hot, sick, shaky feeling of just wanting to lie down was returning, but she was so relieved to see Zack that she hadn't picked up the sound of an approaching car until it was too late...  
  
"734, are you comfortable?" asked one of the X6 boys. A slurred attempt at a reply passed Brin's lips as the X6s sat around her, rearranging the icepacks. The noise of the helicopter engine racketed inside her brain until she was unable to do anything but stare at the ceiling.  
  
"Speak up, X5-734. We can't do anything for you unless you reply in a way that we can understand."  
  
Using all of her strength, Brin managed to execute the military sign language for "Yes." with her right hand. She hoped they had been taught the same code.   
  
They nodded. She was relieved. They had.   
  
The female X6 tried a more comforting approach. "Do you require any more icepacks, 734?"   
  
"N-No."   
  
Their eyes were quiet, condemning. She could tell what they were thinking. One of the famous X5s. She's not so tough.   
  
Brin attempted friendliness, humour. "F-Flying always makes me s-s-s... queasy." The corners of her mouth turned up a little as she fought to give the X6s a smile. Brin's voice was light and quavering.   
  
They looked uncomfortable. Humour from adults was obviously something they weren't familiar with.   
  
Brin remembered being dragged into the car, the car driving away. Zack's yell of anger and surprise, and her own yell of terror.   
  
"Let me out!" she shrieked. Is that my voice? she wondered in shock. It sounded so... so old.   
  
The men had held her down, their grim countenances unchanging, but Brin could tell they were as shocked as she at the dramatic change in her voice.   
  
She felt the car speeding away. Sweat seeped into her already damp locks of hair, and her skin was beginning to sting.   
  
Too weak to fight, Brin curled up. The men in the back of the car talked softly, but Brin could hear every word. "What the hell is wrong with her? She's burning up- and look at her skin."   
  
Brin was afraid. She wanted to scream, "What's wrong with my skin? What's happening to me?" but could only negotiate a vague whisper.   
  
"I feel so sick," she hiccuped. Brin sometimes got the hiccups when she was nervous. Her voice sounded normal again, but shaky.   
  
The men did not offer any comfort, only cold and bewildered stares. She felt like a germ on a microscope slide.   
  
"This is not good. She'll be dead before we reach base."   
  
Brin's eyes were focusing and unfocusing. She managed to train her eyes on the rear view mirror for a few seconds. Fear clutched at her. She remembered a time when she and Zane (her aged about twelve, him within a week of his fourteenth birthday) had met up for a burger and some idle chatter in a park when Manticore had discovered them.   
  
The two of them had crouched in a hollow under a tree as Manticore fanned out through the park. She'd held his hand as they waited for the soldiers to pass them and surprisingly, Zane hadn't objected. Brin remembered the sensation of Zane's fingernails pressed into her palm. This feeling was a dead ringer.  
  
As Brin had studied her reflection in the rear view mirror, she was horrified to see that she'd just aged about forty years! What the hell was wrong with her?  
  
"Approximately two hours until we reach the base, 734," said the younger-looking of the two X6 boys. It was getting hard to tell. "Hold on. We're cleared for landing right away and they've readied the infirmary for your arrival. Just hold on."   
  
"Mmm," muttered Brin. She felt so frail it was like she was outside her body, with no spirit on the inside to hold her up, keep her going.   
  
They'd reached Sanders' base. Brin had been locked up and had lain on a lower bunk in a cell, watching the soldiers patrol the outside of the cell. Although she was sick, she was dangerous. Powerful, she heard a commanding officer instruct the men. "She could snap your neck like a twig just using her elbow," he'd said with utmost seriousness.   
  
Powerful, yeah right. Brin had never felt this powerless in her life. For all she knew these bastards had run down Zack and left him to rot in the alley. She would have cried, but she didn't feel strong enough.   
  
It was frightening to be this weak so suddenly. Just a week ago she had been the same streetwise and phenomenally, well, powerful woman who had shocked her neighbours in the apartment building by carrying every piece of her furniture up two flights of stairs with no help whatsoever on the day she'd moved in.   
  
Brin had slept. It had almost been tiring to close her eyes and to relax her limbs. Every muscle in her body had ached, felt like it had been yanked out of shape. She felt soft and vulnerable. She doubted she was strong enough to remove one of her shoes without assistance.   
  
Her arm was hooked up to an IV. She lay there for a long time.   
  
She'd heard people being marched into the room and locked into cells. Bare feet, her brain automatically flickered on, analysing the situation. Why, Brin had no idea. It was a reflex.   
  
Although the prison block of the base was enclosed, with no windows and Brin was not wearing a watch, she could tell it was nighttime.   
  
Bare feet. Two fully-grown humans. Bound hands. I wonder who they are.   
  
Brin inhaled pathetically and tried to make sense of the new prisoners.   
  
"Brin?" said a tentative voice, so much in that voice. It seemed familiar. "It's me, Max."  
  
She focused. This too was some kind of reflex- like awakening as soon as the freezer door was opened in the back of Senor Fico's. She just wanted to see her so much.   
  
Two prisoners. A man, a woman. Their eyes trained on her. She hated them to see her like this but wanted them both there so very much.   
  
"Max? Is it really you?"  
  
She remembered Max instantly. Manticore Max, that is. Regulation buzz-cut hairdo, drab uniform. Max being taught to kill. Max snuggling into Jondy's cot late at night and Brin falling asleep to the soft sound of their childish giggles. Max crouching beside her during a training exercise. Max.   
  
"We're here, baby sister." Zack. She couldn't ever confuse his voice with anyone else's.   
  
"Zack... you came for me," murmured Brin, scarcely believing it.   
  
Brin watched as Lydecker and Sanders left. She heard Zack and Max talking.   
  
"Told you he'd double-cross us," said Zack ruefully.   
  
Max's very tone was one that gave you the mental image of her smirking. "Never fails to disappoint, does he? I got an itch. Any of you fellas want to scratch my back?"   
  
Had Brin the strength, she would have smiled. Max was exactly the way she'd imagined, growing up. Living on the streets and earning money any way a preteen could, she'd sometimes given herself amusement and comfort by picturing what her siblings looked and sounded like, wherever they were.   
  
"Yeah, right," scoffed a soldier.   
  
Brin watched Max begin to gnaw at the rope tying her hands.   
  
"Hey, cut it out," ordered a guard, cocking his gun.   
  
"Oh, you gonna shoot me?" taunted Max. "'Cause I don't think your boss would be too happy about that..."   
  
"I said cut it out!" snarled the guard, starting forward. Max successfully freed her hands.   
  
"Relax. Or do you want me to gnaw through your bars?" Max sauntered away from the bars scratching her back. "Ohhh... much better."   
  
Brin wanted to laugh. This was her sister. She felt so weak, however funny Max was being, that she couldn't even make a noise to stop her as Max used the rope from her wrists to hang herself from the bars.   
  
Zack was another story entirely. Zack began screaming in panic, calling the guards' attention from the other end of the room, where they were talking quietly.   
  
"MAX! Max, no! NO! Get her down! Hurry!" He looked towards the guards. Brin had never seen Zack look this scared. Brin couldn't be sure whether they had planned this: whether Zack was simply acting or whether he thought Max really was trying to commit suicide.   
  
The soldiers began to argue. They had been given specific orders not to open the cell, to not allow themselves within arm's length of the captive X5s. Tension was mounting. Max didn't seem to be breathing and Zack wasn't doing anything to keep the soldiers calm the way he was ranting at them to rescue his now still X5 sister.   
  
They opened Max's cell. Brin was tense as a soldier entered her cell to make sure she didn't try anything. As it turned out, Max was not dead- not by a long shot. As soon as the hapless soldiers cut the rope, she hit out at them.   
  
Zack jumped up and together they began beating up the guards. Brin, her body feeling like lead, even managed to climb to her feet and take out the guard who'd entered her cell.   
  
She crumpled to the ground and felt Max hoist her up. Together, Max and Zack escaped the prison block.   
  
There was a hail of gunfire in the night as they exited. Zack jumped into the driver's seat of the nearest SUV and Max sat with Brin in the back as they busted out.   
  
Brin was having trouble breathing. She looked up at Max, gasping. Knocking out the guard had taken everything out of her.   
  
"Hey, girl," said Max, her voice kind. Brin felt like paper. She couldn't breathe.   
  
There was a crackle on the walkie-talkie in the SUV. It was Lydecker.   
  
"I know you can still hear me. That's pretty impressive, how you got away. I am very proud of you."  
  
"Gee, thanks Dad," said Max, her voice crawling with sarcasm.   
  
"Turn it off," said Zack from the front seat.   
  
Lydecker was still talking. "Please, listen to me. Brin doesn't have much time. Help me get her to Manticore before it's too late. I taught you always to have a plan. What's yours? To get her to a hospital? They won't understand what they're seeing. They won't be able to help her. I can have her to Manticore in four hours. There's still time."   
  
Time, thought Brin. There's still time. I can live... but the price is too high. Too harsh. There's no way...  
  
Brin couldn't even finish thinking. She felt so tired. Hot. Exhausted. Like she'd been running all day long through a desert instead of lying on a cot.   
  
"Max, turn it off," Zack snapped. Max turned off the walkie-talkie.   
  
Brin's vision was fuzzy. Even Max, whose face was but inches away from hers, was fading.   
  
She hardly listened to Zack and Max arguing. Brin thought about never seeing another sunrise, never hearing another song. Not even existing. And everyone going on without her...   
  
Brin interrupted the argument. "I don't want to die. Please... don't let me die."  
  
There was silence.   
  
"Lydecker, are you still there?" Max said into the walkie-talkie.   
  
Brin barely remembered the silent journey to the drop-off point that Max and Lydecker had agreed on. They'd lain her down there, made sure she was comfortable. Max and Zack knelt beside her a moment, unsure of what to say to their dying sibling.   
  
Max cleared her throat a little, her eyes misted with tears she was afraid to cry. "Brin, you're going to be all right. And someday, no matter what happens, I'm going to come for you."  
  
"Max..." whispered Brin. There was so much she wanted to say. Don't forget me. I won't forget you. I'll remember you every day. Go now, before you're caught here. But all that could escape Brin was the single word of her sister's name. A name she had invented for herself such a very long time ago, when love did not exist but in the powerful devotion and fierce protectiveness of a group of children, brothers and sisters by the bond they shared and the adversity they had overcome.   
  
Both of them had kissed Brin on the forehead and in the split second before they got up, all the time in the world couldn't have caused Brin to forget her X5 brother and sister. Their faces, tight with grief, guilt and pain, held so much love for her.   
  
The helicopter engine penetrated Brin's very mind, a blur. Hushed conversation was being carried out right over her head. She scarcely felt like Brin...   
  
She was Brin. And there were Tinga, Ben, Jace... what was wrong with them? They couldn't have been older than the year they had named themselves. Their heads were shaved to the bone and they squinted through the water at her...  
  
Brin twitched uncomfortably- the restraint on her right foot in the pool was cutting into her ankle. It hurt. They'd been under there two minutes and fifty-eight seconds.   
  
Tinga! Her eyes rolled back in her head, she started thrashing desperately. She'd run out of air. How Brin wished she could swim over to her sister and release her, but truth be told, she was feeling short of breath too.   
  
"Tinga..." croaked Brin to the surprise of the X6 field med trainees. "No... someone help- help her. Can't breathe... gotta save her. Lemme go... wanna help Tinga. Ben. Jace- not you too. Can't save two... gotta save both... help them, someone... Gotta save 'em..."   
  
"What's she talking about?" said a male X6 in hushed tones.   
  
"I recognise those names. Ben and Tinga were the aliases of two of the '09 escapees. I don't know who Jace is though."   
  
"She's delirious. She thinks she's still at Manticore."   
  
"She will be soon. We'll be there in about ten minutes."  
  
"Home," breathed an X6 in relief. He was quite frankly freaked out by X5-734 and her condition.   
  
Brin drifted back as the helicopter touched down. Two adult field meds- X5s- scrambled beside her. A rather creepy silhouette of a superior officer appeared at the doors of the helicopter.   
  
"On your feet, X5-734. You're home."   
  
The next thing Brin knew, she was in a cold, hard infirmary bed. It was morning and she felt much better. She was hooked up to a breathing tube.   
  
It's finally happened, she thought, her emotions between terror and a new feeling she couldn't quite put her finger on. I'm back at Manticore.   
  
It was silent. She could hear birds outside. Brin couldn't remember any birds ever being near or around Manticore, except that raven that had cost the dark-haired X5 Danny his life...  
  
Although Brin felt stronger physically, she couldn't lift her head from the pillow. It made it seem too real.   
  
It was odd. Apart from a sickly feeling of foreboding, Brin didn't feel any different, being back at Manticore. Brin didn't feel like rushing out and shooting every X5 sibling still at large, didn't feel like leaping from her bed to salute every vaguely authorative shadow the flickered over the off-white walls. She felt... like Brin. The Brin who liked playing guitar and always won at three-card monte, and went by a different alias every few months.   
  
How long Brin lay absolutely still, she wasn't certain. She jumped slightly as the doors banged open and two female X5s entered the room, one's face drawn with pain.   
  
A Manticore doctor strode in from another room to take a look at the groaning X5 who was clutching her arm to her like it was going to fall off.   
  
"At ease, soldiers. What's wrong?"   
  
"X5-798 took a bad fall during drills, ma'am. She managed to trip up X5-135, and he landed on her arm."   
  
The doctor looked unimpressed.   
  
"He was wearing full uniform, ma'am. Including but not limited to four weapons."   
  
The doctor now looked ever so slightly bothered about the plight of the X5. She sighed as if their mere presence was wasting her time when she clearly had a virtually empty infirmary, save for Brin who hadn't made a peep all morning.   
  
"798 is serving demerits for her carelessness later this afternoon, but the supervisor had given her permission for 798 to recuperate in the infirmary until called for, ma'am," said the unhurt X5.   
  
The injured X5's teeth were gritted.   
  
"Take the bed down there, 798. As you were, 258."   
  
X5-258 saluted and left the infirmary while the doctor helped 798 onto a bed. She then left to find bandages for her arm, which was broken.   
  
Brin turned her head with a lot of effort to get a proper look at X5-798. She knew that number- she just couldn't believe it.   
  
"Jace?" she murmured. "Jace, is that you?"   
  
798 was ripped from a muttered self-loathing tirade about how incredibly dumb she was to look over at Brin.   
  
"Who are you?" she asked incredulously, taking in her aged features and greyed hair.   
  
"It's me, Brin," said Brin, scarcely daring to believe she was actually talking with Jace.   
  
Jace blinked pityingly at Brin. "It's X5-798 now, 734. I haven't answered to that baby name in ten years. I see- I see you've got it. The aging sickness, the progeria. At least it's not contagious. Is it bad?"   
  
Brin could recognise this as an awkward attempt at goodwill. "It was bad. Not any more."   
  
"If you'd stayed ten years ago then you could have been treated at breakfast, been indisposed a day or two and been ready to fight again by dinnertime. They've wasted a lot of time looking for you."   
  
"Don't suppose they want a crippled soldier," cracked Brin softly. Jace didn't smile. It didn't look like Jace ever smiled.   
  
Jace was studying her. "You've changed, 734. You aren't the soldier you once were, but you'll be soon. The world may have changed you for the worse, but you're home now. A month or two and you'll be operational again."   
  
The doctor came back in. Brin realised this was Jace's way of comforting her. Brin couldn't imagine being that cold.   
  
She remembered Jace as a child. Jace had been the goody-goody, one of Lydecker's favourites. She would rather have died that cheated or taken the easy way out or even- horrors! - given up. She remembered one night Jace, who had fallen asleep more easily than other X5s, had had a nightmare.   
  
As was with cold nights in the wintertime, Max, Jondy and Eva or 'the dream team' as Krit, who was a genuine Manticore wit in the making, referred to them when there was a light mood (which wasn't often) were sharing Jondy's bed. They liked the warmth, the company. Eva would drift off to sleep towards the small hours of the morning while Jondy and Max would still be talking when Brin staggered off to the lockers to find whatever uniform she would need for the day. Brin had never been a morning person.   
  
Ceremonially, almost, the three had risen from the bed and made their way over to Jace, who was shivering and sobbing. Jondy had begun to ask her what was wrong, but a violently crying Jace had burrowed underneath the covers with a very catlike growl of annoyance.   
  
Eva had reached out a thin hand and laid it on the tiny space of Jace's head protruding from underneath the blankets and stroked her hair, which was growing a little and would be cut soon, much the way one would pet a cat.   
  
Jace had stopped crying. And more than anything, Brin had remembered this of Eva. Like she remembered Danny, dead on the ground or Zack ordering them to pair off and run on the night of the escape, she remembered the calming influence of the gentle and brave Eva.  
  
There was silence as Jace's arm was strapped up and bandaged. Finally, Jace spoke.   
  
"Permission to speak, ma'am?"   
  
"Permission granted."   
  
"X5-734 is awake, ma'am. If she is to recieve treatment, it should be now."   
  
The old feeling of wanting to shove Jace and hiss, "Colonel's pet," into her ear came back to Brin. She wondered whether she could inconspicuously give Jace a truly terrifying glare as the Manticore doctor was making her way to Brin's bed.   
  
"As you were, 798. Good eye. I'll deal with 734 now."   
  
Jace lay down on the bed and closed her eyes to rest, trying to find a comfortable position to keep her arm in.   
  
Brin did not wince as she was given an injection by the doctor. "You're recuperating nicely, 734. A week or two and you'll be ready for reindoctrination."   
  
That's good. I think, thought Brin. It would have been something to feel happy about when she was very little. It would have meant she could go back on the field and do exercises with her sisters and brothers.   
  
What am I going to have to do before Max and Zack come get me? Catch up on ten years of missed Manticore classes?   
  
Brin had a sudden mental image of herself sitting in class with a whole gang of little X-series, learning everything from where she had left off. She barely fitted into the mental image desk and had to wear a uniform that was about three sizes to small for her. She gulped at the thought.   
  
It was a very long week for Brin. Intensive shots, a special diet and CAT scans to ensure the defective genes were being repaired were no picnic. Even though Brin could sit up until very late at night as a rule, she developed odd sleeping patterns that were often interrupted.   
  
She told herself that all this gene therapy and medication would be used even outside Manticore, but Brin thought ruefully that doctors outside would perhaps be a little... nicer about it. She wouldn't have to ask four times what they were doing to her before she got even a one-word answer.   
  
By the Wednesday of the next week, a different Manticore doctor (a rather wishy-washy man with thick glasses) told her that she was recovered, and a night of good bed rest was all she needed before reindoctrination.  
  
Panic rose inside Brin. Am I supposed to be pleased? she thought. Max- Zack- where are you two?   
  
That night, free at last from breathing tubes and IVs, Brin turned over on her side to curl up. For the first time in years, Brin actually cried a little. The infirmary was empty and felt like a tomb. She tried to make as little noise as possible, but she still attracted the attention of someone walking by.   
  
"734?" asked a familiar voice, entering the infirmary hesitantly. "Are you all right?"   
  
Jace came and settled herself on the side of Brin's bed, feeling her forehead with the back of her hand to try and detect a temperature.   
  
Brin sniffled, unable to explain to Jace. Jace would scoff at her for being afraid of the reindoctrination. Jace might even think her fear merited punishment.   
  
Her voice rose a little. "Are you in pain, 734? Should I call somebody? Maybe I can do something. Do you need anything? Water?"   
  
Jace thought she was getting worse. She remembered Jace during the compulsary first aid classes the X5s had recieved about ten months before the 2009 escape. Jace had been rough with the children she had practiced strapping bandages on.   
  
When she'd actually been faced with a real injury (Syl had been smacked in the eyes by a branch in an Escape and Evade exercise), she'd freaked. Tinga had had to take charge, maintaining that air to the eye should stop the flow of blood. Tinga of course had been completely incorrect, for binding the eyes with any available cloth should have been the administered first aid.   
  
There was a pause. "You're scared, aren't you? Soldiers aren't ever scared, Brin. It's not entirely your fault- you've been on the outside far too long."   
  
She identified this as yet another misguided attempt at goodwill. Brin attempted to change the subject. "How come you're up now? Don't the troops usually go to bed around this time?"   
  
"I'm taking private lessons on maintaining and repairing the SUVs with one of the lab technicians, Victor. He's very busy during the day and so can only go over the lessons with me at night. I think of it as an extracurricular class." Jace smirked very slightly.   
  
"Oh."   
  
"You sure you don't need anything?"  
  
"Nope. I'm fine," insisted Brin.   
  
Jace stood up. "I'll have to leave, 734. I'm already late for my lesson."   
  
She made for the door and turned back momentarily. There was genuine concern in her eyes. "Don't cry, Brin."   
  
Jace left. Brin shivered and pulled her feet up. I can't cry, she thought decisively. Not in front of anyone. Not until Max and Zack come to get me. In their eyes... I'm a soldier again.   
  
* * *  
  
DISCLAIMER: All the characters and settings you see here belong to James Cameron and Fox. 


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